Knifemaking: courage in being gentle, and the Tennessee Gentlemen

February 18, 2022March 17, 2022 / ballardmidyette / 1 Comment

“Play that restless melody for me again
The one I’ve been so afraid of,
My sweet friend.
Maybe the little refrain will whisper inside the rain again
Play the one with all the changes.”

Al Jarreau- “Something That You Said“

Sometime in the beginning of the pandemic I started talking like Hulk Hogan. Just before everything got shut down I had been making combat daggers for spec ops guys. They had gotten in touch with me asking for “something that you can ram through somebody’s skull.” They all had a particular way of talking to me. The first time I talked to any of them they always addressed me as ‘sir’, and every interaction thereafter was ‘brother’. I really dug that. Even though they were paying me for a service, it made me feel like we were all on the same team and working together.

‘I APPRECIATE YOU, BROTHER!!!’

I found that to be immensely encouraging as I noticed it slipping into my vernacular. The irony of all this happening while I was building them tools of combat to rain down pain is not lost on me.

As Covid started shutting everything down and civil unrest led to riots, I found most of my means of livelihood shut down. Everything was a mess and I was broke trying to pay medical bills. The State Unemployment system was, and is still, a joke. With the murder of George Floyd, and everyone already agitated from lockdown, there was lots aggression and anger. Some of that aggression and anger manifested as marches through the streets, and some escalated to shopping centers being burned down. States of emergency were declared, riot police were dispatched, curfews were instilled, teargas was launched. Most all of this was happening less than a block from where I live, and occasionally it crossed over to the front yard of my building. There were nights where I was afraid someone was going to set my car on fire, which was how close this all was. My Buddhist vegetarian yoga teacher (who didn’t eat meat because it was unkind to animals) told me she was thinking about getting a gun and this did not seem unreasonable to me.

Everyone has the potential to fall prey to their baser of inclinations and move through life as a wrecking ball, especially when a private ambulance company is overdrawing your bank account because your livelihood is shut down like a high school keg party. It was my goal to not do that. During quiet moments at that time, I would check in with myself just to see what was hanging around. I found myself to be full primal rage, an ocean of grief, a profound sense of loss, and a hair-trigger response to any perceived threat. At such a reactive time as it was not too long ago, I found that it took a tremendous amount of courage to be kind and gentle.

During one such quiet moment I asked myself if we could break every interaction down to the very simplest parts of humanity and connection, and just not worry too much about the rest. Maybe we could find a way to let go of the weight of fear and uncertainty, and surrender to the simple joy of quietly going about one’s day. As a result of stripping everything down to the simplest parts of connection during a time of extreme duress, I found myself thinking of the Spec Ops guys for whom I was making daggers. I thought particularly of how in the course of our business I always felt seen and heard, and that my time and talents were respected and honored.

The crux of the Hulk Hogan technique is that it allows the people you interact with to also feel seen and heard. For me it was something that replaced a feeling of despair and hopelessness with a sense of community and belonging. It kept me safe and connected and prevented me from being a wrecking ball, which was what I felt like most of the time. In practice it started every morning with the gentleman selling me my coffee at the market down the street.

“IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU, BROTHER!”

He got some encouragement and I got some coffee. Everybody feels better and has a bit more confidence for their day in a world that is on fire.

As I prepared for my days of shit work to keep myself from being sued by private medical companies, I did my best create disarming moments, as much for myself as the people I interacted with every day, starting with a cup of coffee. There is great power in gentleness, and after all the anger and violence I had experienced, I wanted to see what that practice looked like. Turns out it’s a bit like starting a chainsaw- a gentle but purposeful tug on the pulley cable gives you enough power to take a tree down. Pull too hard and you break the thing.

Ladies I talked to were always “Ma’am”, and anyone I believe to be identifying beyond the binary was always “Cousin”.

In focusing on my interactions with others, I found my crankiness and shit attitudes were curbed. They didn’t go away and I still found myself frustrated at the world, but those moments were much smaller and less consuming. It was much more than an affectation- I had absolutely fuck all going on and this was where I could direct my focus. After such a traumatizing time, this was a way that I could come back to myself and remember who I am and what I do.

Any sort of practice, when diligently observed and worked on, operates on a continuum. It meets you were you are and expands into everything. I was having a drink on my girlfriend’s porch one night when my girlfriend pointed out her neighbor struggling to get a washing machine off his pickup truck. Without thinking I got up and went over.

“BROTHER DO YOU NEED A HAND?!?”

…….

This two knife set was build for a good friend of mine in Tennessee. He got in touch needing something better for his kitchen. During hunting season he and his wife process a lot of deer. After field dressing, a good set of kitchen knives are good second-line tools.

When we spoke over the phone, he had said that while he had needed a set of knives, he had also wanted to throw me some business and help me to practice my craft. As a craftsman himself, he understood. He did to me what I had been doing to everybody else for the past two years, and this build was a lovely experience and testament to the courage of being gentle. I’ve detailed that experience below.

A critical mistake was made here. Rivet holes should always be drilled after the slot is cut and fitted. Lesson learned.

Rough grinding on the Boning knife after hardening.

….and everything did not line up. I broke two drill bits trying to get everything lined up before epoxy cured. Epoxy cured and I have to rip everything apart and figure out what everything wasn’t lined up. This was the third attempt and everything finally went together.

For the Chef we have reclaimed Cherry, recovered from an old mantlepiece.

Knifemaking: finding your roots and the Treethrower

July 30, 2016August 30, 2016 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

‘In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree.’

Hermann Hesse, Bäume. Betrachtungen und Gedichte

I have an old friend and his name is Joe. Joe is a fascinating guy. We went to music school together. Joe is a killer rock musician, a badass chef, and is also really good at climbing trees.

This is Joe:

Joe does tree work full time at the moment. On weekends and his off days he does side work for friends. Sometimes he calls me to give him a hand. Sometimes the money is good and sometimes it is not but it’s refreshing work to do and it’s nice to be along for the ride. His clients are always happy with his work.

The work I did with Joe consisted of removing dead or sick branches and limbs, and removing branches or limbs in order to open up a client’s yard to sun. Any part of the tree extruding over a client’s house was also removed, by way of a block and tackle pulley system rigged to the tree so the branch could be slowly and safely lowered to the ground. All of this was done with regard for the tree, with chainsaw cuts executed in such a fashion so that limbs could healthily grow back. Deadwood was removed and cut flush at the trunk.

There was a quiet and zen process to a lot of this. It all started with laying all of our tools out. Joe would put on his rigging gear and I would fuel up and oil the chainsaws. He would then set a climb line high in the tree and start to ascend, lugging a chainsaw, some handsaws and some tools. The zen in this work comes from ritual. All ropes and lines are kept coiled and tidy. All brush is cut, cleared and neatly piled as soon as it comes down from the tree. If you are using a chainsaw then you are wearing kevlar chaps and the chainsaw stops as soon as you are through cutting and before you move to the next cut. If you are using the chainsaw in a tree then you have set at least three independent safety points, in case you accidentally cut your support line. These little rituals and protocols help to remove some of the thinking from the process. It creates a sort of space to be present with yourself and really feel what you are doing. In this space you can start to feel a grounding and calm in the process. It also allows you to really focus on what you are doing and helps to keep you safe. All these things gently coerce you into slowing down and this is a good thing. Tree work is pretty dangerous after all.

This space that has been created allows more mental real estate for when things get a bit hairy. There was a the time when a line came loose and giant log cut from a tree fell and put a giant hole in the client’s deck. Or the ‘how the fuck are we going to get all of this done?’ moments. Or it’s rainy or icy and you feel extra unsafe.

It’s really refreshing to feel this because it’s a microcosm of life I forget to feel at times. In this season of life, for myself and many of those close to me, sometimes you forget to ground yourself and everything feels uncertain. Life changes quickly, living gets more expensive, and what worked yesterday doesn’t necessarily work today. Focus wanes, a feeling of security becomes a commodity, and one can find themselves feeling a bit daft and inadequate. This can be remedied by practices and rituals. Keeping your ropes and lines tidy, in a spiritual and emotional sense. This can be a bit of a process, especially if you come from a place where roots were shallow and conditional on things outside of yourself.

This is the lesson of the Treethrower. I came to this idea while tossing massive logs we had cut down into a firewood pile. It’s important to find roots in what you are doing. When this doesn’t happen everything can feel daunting. Often times these rooting things are right beneath your nose and, paradoxically, the last place we tend to look. Finding them, even for a moment each day, can make a world of difference in your life.

It starts with a massive bar of 1/4″ 1095 spring steel. My good friend and partner picked this up at a steel mill in North Carolina.

The angle of the blade on this design allows for much more leverage during large cutting chores.

I burned through about 8 cut off discs cutting this out:

Some half inch holes to remove weight.

Several hours later…

There is a lot of material to remove…

Full flat grind

Hand sanding before heat treatment

Into the forge:

Tempering…

This is a large piece of spalted pecan, sent to me by my wonderful cousin in Texas.

Up to 2000 grit

The Treethrower: 1095 spring steel, spalted Pecan handle scales, kydex spacers and steel hardware.

Thanks for the lessons, Joe.

Knifemaking: going deep and the Kingfisher

January 22, 2016January 30, 2016 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“When a needle falls into a deep well, many people will look into the well, but few will be ready to go down after it”

-African Proverb

I went to music school. I was shown many ways to teach myself to be good at things. I spent many hours in a practice room by myself, many more hours in front of a piano composing and arranging, and even more time listening. To everything. The education I got reached far beyond any classroom or practice space. Life becomes those spaces.

Learning how to listen to things was the biggest lesson I learned. When you listen, really listen, not just hear, your world opens up. You notice all the nuanced bits of wonder. As life gets busier and more complicated I still have to remind myself that it’s all still there, that it hasn’t and won’t go anywhere. That within a world that holds a good deal of pain and sorrow for everyone there are also things that move and stir the soul, but they don’t always sit on the surface of our awareness…

There was one class that really opened things up and is sort of the inspiration for this writing. It was called World Music, which is a rather vapid title for an experience that was so much more that. It was taught by a very wonderful and kind man, one of the more enlightened people I’ve ever met. Classes started off in silence and darkness, with the ringing of chimes. Sometimes ambient music was played, or Tuvan throat singing, or guitar players from West Africa with rhythms I had never heard before. There were many books to read, records to check out, and some of the most real discussions on being and the human condition that I have ever experienced.

It was during one of these discussions that something came up, and I don’t quite remember the context but it has stuck with me. In the course of the discussion, it came up that our professor’s spirit animal was a dolphin. He said that he was at the beach surfing when he was sixteen and nearly drowned and shortly thereafter found he related deeply with the dolphin. The dolphin is able to dive very deep but always returns to the surface to breathe. He told us he built his whole philosophy of teaching on that premise.

This is something that has been with me for awhile. Sometimes you have to take a deep breath and go deep. When you are exhausted, when it feels like life is more than you can handle, when you need to heal. You can handle a lot more than you think you can but the tools and nourishment you need don’t always sit at the surface. That doesn’t mean the process of finding these things doesn’t hurt like hell or isn’t terrifying at times.

Take the Kingfisher bird, for example. To get the food it needs to sustain itself, it has to dive far beneath it’s comfort zone. They sit on their perch overhanging the water and when they see their prey they dive, eyes closed, into the deep. I think about this and wonder what is going through his little bird brain before he hits the water…

This is the lesson of the Kingfisher. You close your eyes, you dive deep, and you come up with something nourishing. Repeat as necessary, adding faith and a bit of courage as required.

I wanted to make a filet knife, something to help me dive. I made her out of a thin piece of bedframe steel. She has a 6in blade.

I initially ground two of these, but one didn’t turn out. I left it soaking in the acid too long (for a deep etch) and there wasn’t much blade left….

My very dear friend James did the handle on this one. She has Mora wood scales and brass hardware.

My good friends Mike and Jen using the Kingfisher to de-bone a goose…

Sometimes you have go below the surface of things to find what you need. This is the lesson of the Kingfisher.

Knifemaking: soldiering on and the Rio Bravo

January 18, 2016February 21, 2016 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It’s perfect when it arrives and it puts itself in our hands. It hopes we’ve learned something from yesterday.”

― John Wayne

soldier on: phrasal verb with soldier. to continue doing something although it is difficult

–Cambridge Advanced Learner’s Dictionary and Thesaurus

This blade was a commission for the father of a gentleman who is a professional videographer. I came to know this gentleman after building a knife for him. He called and asked if I could make a blade for a very special person- his father.

When I first met with the client, we talked for about an hour. He showed me a short film he had made about his father, his father’s deep love of football, and how it brought the two of them closer as adults. The film was quite stunning. The NFL thought so too- it won their family tickets to the Super Bowl.

In the film, he told his father’s story of how he lost a chance to play for the Baltimore Colts, losing out to Johnny Unitas. What followed was a strained relationship where the client really didn’t get a chance to know his father. The film documented how football brought bonding and healing. He asked if I could make a blade with an element of the game that his father loves.

I felt quite a bit of anxiety in making this blade. I had to design it and give it a life for somebody’s loved one whom I had never met before. It took a very long time because I really wanted to make the right statement. The recipient of this blade is a man’s man, stoic, and has taken his licks. He has a bit of cowboy in him- John Wayne was mentioned during our talk. I named it the Rio Bravo after the John Wayne film. Wayne was 51 when he starred in the film but still kicks a lot of ass.

I write this from a man’s perspective. As a man I have a hard time dealing with difficult emotions and I think most men would agree that it is a bitch coming to terms with them. They don’t go away, they just sit and fester if not dealt with. In dealing with them we often fall apart, have meltdowns, withdraw, avoid, and sometimes leave a path of destruction. You want to succeed, to have a purpose, to leave your mark on the world, and make things right. When that doesn’t happen you can find yourself questioning your self-worth. I don’t have children but when there are little ones looking up to you and watching you I imagine it adds that much more pressure.

The lesson of the Rio Bravo is that no matter what you soldier on. The only way out is through. You show up, you do the work, you laugh, you cry, and you take the bitter with the sweet. I crafted this blade for a man who has done all of that and serves as an inspiration of what soldiering on earns you.

The beautiful part of this commission has been seeing how inspiring the healing can be. A son did this for a father where there was pain on both ends. The client showed me, a stranger, this incredibly vulnerable and moving film. It’s hard to imagine the courage it took to make that film and to put an intimate story out into the world.

I loved working with this client. There were multiple conversations about designs and materials. He is an artist and we can talk about concrete things in abstract and obtuse ways. At the end of it he always told me to do what I thought and that he trusted me. This is where I started:

Some jimping for grip, and a nod to the laces of a football.

Rough Grind

Hardened…

….and tempered

I wanted something with the feel of a football…

I cut it into strips and glued it together….

…and it failed miserably. Still, I really wanted to work the leather in. That’s the spirit of football even though it isn’t pigskin. I was also really into the idea of having a part of something that once walked the earth be a part of this blade. I wanted this to be a very masculine blade, with a southwestern theme. For me it doesn’t get much more manly than the combination of Texas Mesquite, leather, and steel. I put in some thin tin spacers for a bit of sparkle.

I have a cousin in Texas who is a woodturner with a sawmill. He handpicks cutoffs with the most gorgeous figures and sends them to me. When I’m using his wood for a handle it’s like Christmas morning- think of opening your favorite Christmas present, only you get to do it for two and a half hours. Thank you Bill Cockrell. You are a very good man.

The Rio Bravo: etched 1095 spring steel, Texas Mesquite handle, leather and tin spacers, with steel hardware.
I carved in some laces:

Soldier on, cowboy. You never know what tomorrow may bring.

Knifemaking: the courage to be and the Ace

December 7, 2015December 7, 2015 / ballardmidyette / 1 Comment

“If you love something, you know what the best in the world actually looks like.”

James Altucher

This blade was a commission for a six-year old boy who lives on a farm. His parents are close friends of mine. They have several acres of property in Montpelier, which is about 40 minutes outside the city.

I go out there as often as I can, usually just to get away from the city. They have goats, chickens, ducks, pigs, and other animals. I keep turning down offers to hunt. I’m not much for guns or shooting things but I have made knives for them to skin and clean with, and I will always eat whatever they brought back, provided it’s already dead.

I’ve known this little boy since he was about three. He loves to play and is curious about almost everything. He asks questions that I don’t really have the answers to but I always answer him as best I am able. He is open and fearless and kind. He loves his family and everyone close to him is a dear friend. He sees the best in everyone and wants to help as much as he can. I have to remember to watch my mouth when I spend time with him.

As an adult I see this as profound and courageous and often inspiring. This what I would call the Courage to Be. But as a little boy he is only doing what he knows how to do. He just loves and in those moments I can feel that whatever he has going on is pretty much the best thing ever. As a former little boy, I know this feeling well.

I was out there recently for dinner and he showed me where he had lost a tooth. I asked him if the tooth fairy had visited him and he lost it and screamed “THERE IS NO TOOTH FAIRY” and ran out of the room. Apparently, his mother explained, he had found out the tooth fairy does not exist. She said he threw her two dollars at her and demanded his tooth back.

His little world was shaken and he wasn’t afraid to let the big people know how he felt. Sometimes I wish I could get away with demanding my tooth back…

I was out there the other day and his father needed a hand installing a new washer and dryer. I had this little boy help me while his father did chores. He kept asking me when we were going to play and make things. I couldn’t lie to him. I told him I had to help his dad and I might not have time for play. He wasn’t very fond of my games- break the water line with the channel locks, hold the door while I cart out the old dryer, hand me a screwdriver. I thought we were having fun. I like hanging out with this little being, even when there is much to do.

And then this little boy had a meltdown. Tears and everything. “All you do is work,” he says. “Maybe you work and save some time for play and then maybe you won’t be so tired,” he says.

I asked him if he would like a hug, and he said yes. I didn’t tell him I had come out there to have his mother help me with my resume. I didn’t tell him that his parents work hard and sacrifice so he can play and learn and Be. What I did do was put him on my shoulders and tell him to hold on tight. He said he wasn’t scared.

This is the lesson of the Ace. To find the Courage to Be, even when the grown-up world has dimmed your shine and made it painful to love without condition. To know what the best in the world looks and feels like, even when you have trouble paying your bills, or sorrow makes you weary, or there are many moments when there isn’t enough of anything. To know that while you are not going to get your tooth back, you don’t have to like it or settle for anything less than you believe you deserve.

I had traded a skinning knife and a small paring knife for some supplies from his parents. This little boy found them and said he wanted one. His parents found a two-foot machete in his play fort. The little boy said it was for “keeping bad guys away.” I have seen no bad guys in the vicinity so it must be working. They asked me if I could make a small knife with a blunted edge for him to carry and learn with. I then asked the little boy what kind of knife he would like. I received a drawing and a strict set of parameters, the last of which required that it be a sword. Right little man, I’ll get right on that…

This is what I came up with. A blade for a smaller hand. He’s an inch across at his widest point. This is the smallest blade I’ve ever made.

full flat grind…

…hardened and tempered…

testing for handle fit…

The grip is a piece of Mahogany floorboard

The Ace: O1 tool steel with a satin finish, Mahogany handle and brass hardware.

I made a small leather sheath for him to carry it with. The blade is blunted and I ground the tip down per his parents request. He’ll grow into it and I’ll build him another one when he’s ready.

Take note of the little ones. Try to find your Courage to Be.

Knifemaking: fear, flaws, and the Precedent

May 11, 2015June 30, 2015 / ballardmidyette / 2 Comments

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

― Frank Herbert, Dune

Ah fear. What I’ve learned about fear is that, contrary to what Mr. Herbert says, fear makes one human. Fear means you are feeling the proper spectrum of emotions. Fear helps you to think through things rather than blindly charging into them. Fear keeps you alive.

The real mind-killer is resistance to fear. Not doing what you know is right because you are afraid. In my life this resistance is what keeps me feeling stuck, keeps me going in circles, and keeps me from loving at my full capacity. It is this resistance that leads to patterns of negative thought, that fear is wrong, and that at the bottom of it you are somehow wrong or flawed.

The idea of being flawed is something that operates on a deep level. A flaw by definition is something that is marked as a fault or imperfection. In my own life I tend to find the flaws in things. Maybe I am am looking for validation of my own flaws. Lately I have been pausing with this and I find that I can reframe it into something else. As long as I can operate from the level of my heart I find that I am not flawed, that what I perceive to be flaws are beautiful little signatures of being human, of lessons I am still learning, of ways to move forward.

When one gets to the bottom of what they find their flaws to be and sees the beauty in them this provides a springboard to move forward. It doesn’t mean that the fear is gone. There is fear of making mistakes, fear of failure, fear of letting people down, fear of letting yourself down. This is all ok. I breathe all of that in and step forward. This sets a Precedent and is the inspiration for this blade.

Part of moving forward was to order a bar of O1 Tool steel. I found this bar in itself was rather exquisite. As far as steel goes he is soft and forgiving to work with. He can be hardened up to be very strong and tempered to be flexible. It’s not a stainless steel. He can rust so care and love are a requisite.

I wanted to make a knife that I felt would cut through the resistance of fear. I found this to be a microcosm of my being at the moment and my intention was to remove from the bar everything that was not me. It came out looking like this:

I found some plans for a filing setup to help guide me in making a clean grind. It is a slow process but also a meditation. Slowly removing that which doesn’t need to be there and finding the beauty in that which is slowly revealed. Often I find myself counting the strokes of the file….

This where the blade is planed level by drawing a file across. Here is where I find out how even my grind is. What I’ve learned is that if I hurry through filing on the jig then I spend that much more time draw filing the blade level. Best to take that extra time counting file strokes on the jig and spend less time draw filing.

After that comes sanding to polish up the blade before heat treat. I’ve found that I don’t mind a rougher finish. I like seeing rogue file blemishes and the grind on the steel.

So here is the Precedent, ready for heat treat (which is a lesson I’m still learning….)

The lesson of the Precedent is to find courage in your fear and beauty in your own human condition.

groundedinfire

lessons, journeys, and wonders

courage